


I Want You to Come With Me

by milkysterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Sterek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Figure Skater Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Grumpy Derek, M/M, Secrets, good things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-12 17:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12964236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysterek/pseuds/milkysterek
Summary: "I'm Hannah Montana."Derek blinked, deadpan, "Who?"Stiles groaned again and placed both hands on his hips, drumming his fingers in a quick and unidentifiable rhythm. The finger drumming was a nervous habit that Derek had picked up on years ago, back when the two were still half allies, half at each other's throats.Finally, worrying at his lip until it turned red under the pressure, Stiles spilt the beans: "I'm a famous figure skater in Russia."





	I Want You to Come With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Chrysler or whatever company you celebrate at this time of year!

When Derek suggested ice skating for that week's date night, he hadn't expected Stiles to look so worried.

Derek sucked at ice skating, he was always more cut out for contact sports like football or... football, but he was racking his brains for somewhere new to take Stiles and ice skating was the only decent thing that popped into his head. They'd already done the aquarium, Stiles had taken him to the cinema not long ago, picnic in the park had been and gone and, really, there wasn't all that much to do in Beacon Hills. So, it was ice skating or bowling - and Derek hated bowling.

Still, he didn't understand why Stiles was acting so shifty about the whole thing. He was about to offer the dreaded bowling, despite the fact that he'd probably spend the whole date sulking when Stiles cut in, shaking his head with a determined look in his eyes that Derek wasn't about to challenge.

"We're going ice skating," Stiles said, nodding as if assuring himself that he was making the right decision. Derek guessed he could kind of understand, actually. Stiles was uncoordinated enough on dry land; Derek just hoped there wouldn't be any broken bones.

Did an ice rink count as dry land, too?

"Okay," Derek nodded from where he was laid out on the bed, his bare back scratched up and bleeding from Stiles' sharp nails. The post-orgasm haze was starting to wear off and now there were other, more important things to think about, "Let me eat you out?"

Stiles cackled and rolled onto his front, lifting his ass up nice and high for his boyfriend to dive into. Derek's cum was still seeping out of Stiles' pink and puckered hole, leaving a delicious white trail down the back of his balls that dangled in the cool air of Derek's loft.

"You're ridiculous," Stiles laughed, joyous and happy before trailing off the second Derek's tongue pushed passed the loosened ring of muscle and broke the boy down into a senseless, rambling mess once more.

  
They went to the rink on Tuesday evening because that's when they both had time off work. Date night had never been a fixed thing for Stiles and Derek, what with Stiles working shifts at a restaurant in town. Derek had always thought Stiles would have gone to college after he graduated from high school but when the time for enrollment came, he never bothered. Once or twice, Derek had dared to ask Stiles about it but quickly learned that the subject of higher education was a touchy one indeed.

Stiles wasn't the only one who worked. Derek was the CEO of his family's company - a job he inherited, not earned, after the fire - and sporadically showed up to oversee... whatever was happening whenever he fancied a change of scenery. That wasn't often, so when Stiles did have days off, Derek was always conveniently free. They got to have a lot more sex than the other couples they knew did.

"Is Boyd here?" Stiles asked when they entered the building that housed the ice rink. It was a little battered and smelled like sweat and blood thanks to the hockey players that had just finished up practice. Derek cringed against the onslaught of scents; along with the sweat and possible broken noses there was also a heavy scent of chips bubbling away in the grace fryer in the kitchens and somewhere else a heavy pong of vomit hung in the air. It was a disgusting, filthy place but Stiles didn't seem to mind any of it, so that was something.

Sometimes Derek really hated being a werewolf.

"No," Derek answered, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt for inflicting werewolf super senses on the poor man. Boyd's work life must have been hell. Then again, he was shipping off to college soon and would likely never have to step foot in that grubby hell hole again after that, "He's taking his grandma to see a play."

"Thank fuck," Stiles whispered, too low for human ears to hear.

Derek frowned.

Getting steady on ice skates was not something that came naturally to Derek. Normally, he was a pretty agile guy; there wasn't a lot out there that could knock him off his feet and his mothers had often commented that he was a lot closer to being a werecat than a wolf, thanks to his gifted balance. The ice skates, however, were a whole other playing field. He managed to get upright pretty quickly, but staying that way was another matter altogether. His body leant to the wrong sides and he suddenly felt heavier than he ever had before. It was so, so hard to walk so Derek settled for a strange mixture of stomping and sliding, holding on to whatever piece of wall or furniture he could lay his calloused hands to.

He swayed and clunked in his rental boots away from the smirking woman at the booth who had given them to him and went on the search for Stiles, glaring the whole way. Stiles had said he'd catch Derek up before Derek went to the rental booth and Derek had assumed he was going to the bathroom or something. When Derek made it to the hallway that led to the rink, however, he found Stiles already waiting for him, fitted out in his own cherry red skates that clearly weren't the rinks battered, off-white rentals.

"Where did you get those?" Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged and pushed off the wall he had been leaning against, ready to set off towards the near-empty rink. It seemed teenagers these days didn't find ice skating all that exciting of an activity for a Tuesday evening. Derek didn't blame them.

"I brought them from home," Stiles said, flippantly. That made sense. After all, Lydia was amazing on the ice and, though he was now happily with Derek, Stiles had spent many, many years trying to impress the redhead. He'd probably bought those skates for their attempted dates which definitely weren't dates as far as Lydia was concerned. Derek tried not to feel bitter about it.

They stepped onto the ice cautiously at first. The second Derek's bladed feet touched the slippery surface, he regretted all his life decisions up to that point. Every last one of them. Including that time he let Stiles double fuck him with both his cock and a dragon dildo he'd bought online. Actually, he regretted that one even before stepping on the ice, even if it had felt amazing.

Derek was so caught up in not falling on his ass and remembering the pure euphoria of double penetration that he hardly noticed Stiles take to the ice like a swan takes to water. He caught the slide and razor-sharp scrape of Stiles' skates out of the corner of his eyes, and when he did, when his brain finally processed what he was seeing, his head snapped up with green eyes blown wide.

Stiles was beautiful on the ice. Unlike on dry ground, every inch of his lanky body worked in unison, like a well-oiled machine. He was a natural and looked more at home here, his red hoodie and skates contrasting against the bright white background, than he did anywhere else. Stiles' skin glowed under the harsh lights that hung above them, illuminating the rink with an unflattering brightness, and still, Stiles glowed. He twirled and let his body twist and curve as if it were the easiest thing; he jumped and when he span in mid-air, landed with all the ease of a professional, honing their craft for years, Derek could have sworn he was doing it on muscle memory alone. It almost looked like Stiles wasn't trying to show off, wasn't trying to impress Derek - this was just how he was and his body was doing what it was meant to do, like it was falling into a long-established routine.

After completing one lap of the rink, Stiles drew to a slow stop near Derek, his cheeks pink with what could have been exertion but Derek suspected it wasn't. He looked sheepish and uneasy and Derek very much wanted to kiss that stupid look off his boyfriend's face. He didn't, though, because he didn't think it would be appreciated. Instead, Derek took hold of the barrier with one hand o steady himself and leaned back against it, "So... You're good."

"I'm great," Stiles corrected, looking up from the ice to meet Derek's eyes.

Derek nodded, "Yeah."

They were silent for a moment and it all felt very ridiculous. Derek knew there was something more going on here. He knew Stiles and Stiles didn't react this way over nothing. Something was bothering him and it was something he obviously wanted to confide in Derek about. What that was, Derek wasn't sure.

"So, uh, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, it's just...it's never felt like the right time and it's weird and kind of a big thing. The sort of thing that would be weird to just announce while you're in my ass, y'know? And the longer I went without telling you, the harder it was to just say it. Which is stupid because it's not like this is a bad thing or anything, it's a good thing really and I promise I never wanted to hide part of my life from you but... I don't know, Derek. Everything just got out of hand and I figured that was part of my life I had left behind. After a while, there was no real reason to tell you, even though I wanted to, even though I still want to..."

Stiles trailed off and Derek stared. He wasn't sure what on earth to say to that word vomit and he wasn't even sure what it was Stiles had actually told him. It seemed important and whatever it was obviously meant a lot to Stiles but Derek was lost, so completely lost.

"I," Derek started, then paused, trying to collect his thoughts, "Are you trying to tell me you're secretly married?" He asked, jokingly and Stiles groaned, hating his attempt at humour in such an obviously dramatic - sarcasm - situation.

"No," Stiles sighed and waved one of his hands, as if his next words would clear everything up, "I'm Hannah Montana."

Derek blinked, deadpan, "Who?"

Stiles groaned again and placed both hands on his hips, drumming his fingers in a quick and unidentifiable rhythm. The finger drumming was a nervous habit that Derek had picked up on years ago, back when the two were still half allies, half at each other's throats.

Finally, worrying at his lip until it turned red under the pressure, Stiles spilt the beans: "I'm a famous figure skater in Russia."

While the Sheriff was of Polish descent, Stiles had told Derek a few times about his mother's family back in Russia. He had a grandmother there, Polina, who was a strange mixture of strict and sickly sweet. Each year for his birthday, which also happened to fall on Christmas day so most people forgot about it, he received a handmade sweater from Polina and a heartfelt card wishing him a happy birthday and to keep an eye on her favourite grandson. While Derek had been afraid of her at first, despite never having actually met her face to face, he grew to care for the old woman quite deeply and in turn, he knew she cared for him too. Now that he thought back to her and their once monthly skype conversations, some things did seem to stand out.

Like how she was always talking about Stiles' fans back home.

Derek had thought she was referring to his friends. Stiles had always been great at making friends. Could it actually be that she was talking about... real fans? Actual fans? Fans who asked for autographs and stuck posters of his boyfriend up on their bedroom walls?

Derek wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Please say something."

Stiles' pleading voice brought Derek back to the present and he blinked, a little mistily. This was all a lot to take in. Stiles was famous. Stiles was a figure skater. Stiles had kept a huge chunk of his life from Derek.

And Stiles had obviously been feeling bad about the whole thing.

When it came to finding his voice again, Derek wasn't sure why he asked what he asked. It just felt right and somehow made him feel like he was putting the puzzle pieces together, like he didn't need Stiles to spell everything out for him like a child.

"Is that why you didn't apply for college?" He asked and Stiles turned bright red.

For a moment, Derek thought Stiles was upset at Derek bringing up the forbidden subject once again but the anger that the wolf usually sensed on his boyfriend during such interrogations wasn't to be found. Instead, a mixture of dandelions and warmth wafted over and Derek realised that Stiles was embarrassed.

"Uh, yeah," He said and brought a gloved hand up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes dropped to the floor, "I guess... I guess I didn't want to enrol in college because I didn't want anything tying me down... in case I ever wanted to go back. To Russia, that is. Not that I want to go back or want to go skating again. At least, I don't think I do. That's a lie," He said, breathlessly, then raised his wide eyes back to Derek, "I miss it so much, Derek. I still train a few days each week and sometimes I try on my old costumes, just to see if I still fit in them. I've put on a little weight, but I think if I up my training, start working out again - that I can get back into shape and, how knows, I could be competing again next year. I'm still young, I still have time. I can do it!"

An odd flood of conflicting emotions churned around in Derek's chest. He was still a little confused and shaken by such a huge revelation being thrown at him on what he thought would be an uneventful Tuesday afternoon. Then there was the pride he felt at Stiles' determination, his want and drive to get back on the ice. Not long ago, Stiles had been a shaky and unsure teenager who doubted himself at every corner; this Stiles was so far away from the boy he had once been and Derek's heart flooded with joy and love and a whole lot of other things. But, of course, no matter how happy Derek was for his boyfriend, his Stiles, Stiles has said he didn't want anything tying him down. Was Derek like college? Was Derek one of the things holding Stiles back? He didn't want to be that for him, some dead weight Stiles would one day grow to resent. At the same time, however, a selfish part of Derek filled with a sickening dread. he didn't want Stiles to leave him. Not for anything.

There was so much going on in his head, Derek needed to take a step back. Quite literally. He made his way, unsteadily, back off the ice and sat down in the chairs set out for observers. He patted the chair beside him and Stiles sat, looking scared and worried.

"Derek, look, I know you and I know what you're thinking right now-" Derek really hoped he didn't, "-but I promise you, I'm not just going to drop you like a hot potato and run off into the sunset to chase my dreams of gold medals and stardom."

Derek nodded and held out his hand. Stiles took it instantly and the two laced their fingers together. Keeping his eyes on their hands and giving Stiles' a reassuring squeeze, he said, "I don't want to be the thing tying you down."

"Derek," Stiles said softly, leaning into his shoulder, "You never could be. Being with you is the best thing that's ever happened to me and there isn't a force in this world that could make me give you up."

"But-"

"Shh," Stiles continued and kissed Derek's cheek, "I was thinking... you hate your job, right?"

Derek shrugged, "I wouldn't say I hate it. I don't have any feelings for it. It's just sort of there."

Stiles nodded and smiled, "But you came back to Beacon Hills for me. To be with me. There's nothing else, besides the job - which you hardly ever show up to and could probably do from, say, another country - keeping you here? Tying you down? Stopping you from, maybe, accompanying me when I go away to compete?"

Deep in his chest, Derek's heart started to pound. He looked up and caught Stiles' beautiful, glittering eyes, "You want me to come with you?"

"We wouldn't be gone all the time. I'd get back in contact with my old trainer and fly her out here. We could practice at this rink and then fly out when I'm ready to compete which is probably a way off right now. There'd be time to get everything in order and well, my first lot of competitions would probably be here in California anyway. Local stuff until I build back up."

Stiles looked like he had more to say but Derek had heard enough. He cut him off, pressing his lips hard on Stiles' and kissed him so soundly that the pair was gasping for breath by the end of it.

"You want me to come with you," Derek said again. This time it wasn't a question.

Stiles smiled and squeezed Derek's hand, "I want you to come with me."

  
Later that night, when Stiles was utterly fucked out and sound asleep in Derek's bed, Derek loaded up his laptop and opened up Google. A quick search for 'Stiles Stilinski' earned him very little in the way of news articles and only lead him to Stiles' locked - understandably, now - Twitter. Derek frowned and exited out back to the search engine, tapping against the keys before finally searching 'Mieczyslaw Stilinski' instead.

Derek never thought watching Stiles win gold would get him hard.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://milkysterek.tumblr.com/)


End file.
